


If I Fell In Love With You

by BazzyBelle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Happy, M/M, References to the Beatles, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Violinist Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/pseuds/BazzyBelle
Summary: This is ridiculous… I am being utterly ridiculous.I am a ridiculous, romantic fool, who has gone completely soft for a walking disaster with bright blue eyes and soft bronze curls.On a crisp, fresh, October evening, Baz decides to surprise Simon with a romantic dinner and something extra special for him. For no reason, other than he wants to find a way to show Simon just how much he loves and cares about him, and this is really the only way that makes sense to him.Takes place after Carry On, but before Wayward Son.





	If I Fell In Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> Ok... I'm back for another go...
> 
> So I was full of all these fluffy, happy emotions... Naturally, they translated into a brand new fluffy fiction! There is some very mild angst in here (not much, I tried to keep it light). 
> 
> This specific fic idea came into my head while I was listening to the "Across the Universe" soundtrack (If you haven't already heard the soundtrack/see the movie, I highly recommend it). I was listening to the version of "If I Fell" by Evan Rachel Wood, and I saw Simon and Baz dancing to it (a violin version of it, of course). The way she sings the song is so haunting and beautiful, I pictured Baz playing violin in the same hauntingly soft manner.
> 
> The rest of the fiction came from the ending scene (because, honestly, I don't really write linearly, I write a scene and work my way around it). 
> 
> I hope you like it. :)
> 
> Edited to add: I do not own the characters. They belong to Rainbow Rowell. I also don't own the lyrics to "If I Fell".

_If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand?_

**BAZ**

This is ridiculous… _I_ am being utterly ridiculous.

I am a ridiculous, romantic fool, who has gone completely soft for a walking disaster with bright blue eyes and soft bronze curls.

And yet, I do not regret the length of time it took me to plan… whatever I’d like to call this… a stay-at-home date? I had been planning this dinner for the last few weeks. I figured it would not be such a bad idea to do something nice for Simon.

I stare out of the window to my flat, at the grey skies of London. The late October winds are rustling the trees right outside. I expect it might start to rain soon. I love this time of the year. The air is fresh, crisp, and the rain makes it all the more romantic for me. I’ve always loved the rain. I found it provided me with endless inspiration. My violin practices always felt best right next to a window, with the soft patter of rain to accompany me.

I truly am a modern-day character from a Poe story.

I think about the last year. Simon and I went from sworn enemies, to adversaries working towards a common goal, to friends, to snogging each other, to… I suppose we decided to give ourselves the label of “boyfriends”. Planning a romantic evening is something that a boyfriend does, right?

I am unreservedly hopeless…

I start to second guess just how much work I put into this evening. It is completely insane and will be tremendously overwhelming for Simon. I look at the table, perfectly set up with a few candles, to the kitchen, where I have dinner almost done cooking (a small roast beef with roasted potatoes and some vegetables), and I let out a deep sigh.

Simon Snow, you’ve turned me into a complete fool for you, and I think I’m all the more happy for it.

My watch tells me that it is about 15 minutes to 6 o’clock, which means that I should be expecting Simon to arrive very soon. He had a few classes in the morning and then a therapy session. I suppose I should be glad that he is going to therapy, I am fully supportive about up keeping one’s mental health. I just wish he would talk to me more about what goes on during his sessions. I am aware that it is a very private and personal matter, opening up and expressing feelings, however a part of me wishes I could also be privy to that. If anything, to allow me to better understand how Simon thinks and how he processes the events in his life.

It might, dare I say it, bring us closer as a couple.

He won’t… share with me, that is. He hasn’t really shared anything since he defeated the Humdrum, killed The Mage (though, Bunce and I have both gladly shared in that responsibility, because really, fuck the wanker), and above all, lost his magic. For someone like Simon, losing his magic must be akin to losing one’s own idea of self. I try to empathize and I try to remind him that I’m here for him regardless of his magical status (as if that ever meant anything to me), and that he is still a powerful mage. Above all, I have tried to remind him that his magic never defined who he is as a person… though, usually, when I say that, I am met with an _“Easy for you to say Baz! You’ve got magic AND you’re a vampire! What do you know about magic defining or not defining me?”_

It’s very difficult to argue against that, so I let it be. Told myself that Simon would talk to me when he is ready. Besides, I really should not be criticizing Simon for his lack of communication skills. I, myself, never learned how to appropriately convey my own emotions and feelings. While the art of language comes easy to me, when it comes to my own feelings and emotions, I choose to not acknowledge them. Telling Simon that despite everything, I still chose him took A LOT of bravery on my part.

This dinner is me literally putting my heart on the line. I am hoping that I am able to show Simon how much I care about him, even though I often struggle with telling him.

Any moment now…

* * *

  
_‘Cause I’ve been in love before, and I found that love was more than just holding hands._

**SIMON**

Today’s been a day…

A part of me wants to go home and lie down on the couch. I am running on negative energy. If it weren’t for the fact that I have plans with Baz, I might just spend the remainder of my evening sleeping. Maybe eat some crisps and a left-over sandwich from yesterday.

Baz had come to me weeks ago, suggesting I spend an evening with him at his flat. He wanted to do a sort of stay-at-home dinner date. Even though I had been more tired recently, I couldn’t say no to Baz. Not when he looks at me with his deep gray eyes.

I love his eyes. They are the kind of deep gray that you would see on a day like today. A day that is teetering on the edge of London gloom, and apocalyptic rain storm. I’ve noticed that his eyes also have dots of silver and blue in them, and the hungrier he is, the more silver tends to show through. It’s incredibly fascinating. We were walking down the road one day, to pick up some groceries for my flat, when Baz turned to say something to me. I could swear that his eyes were almost sparkling. I had to stop and catch my breath. They were like two clouds, chasing a storm.

And his smile… Baz typically wears his signature sneer, or a look of annoyance when I’ve done some completely idiotic, or a condescending glare (one I am not particularily fond of). However, sometimes, I’ve managed to catch him in a smile. And not just a typical smiling-because-I-have-to smile, but a pure, genuine look of joy. His hard features soften and his eyebrows perk up. He’ll also tilt his head towards you, almost as if he’s beckoning you to come forward.

It’s a thing of beauty to see him like this. When we lived together at Watford, when we were enemies, I would never see him smiling like that. He would be joyful when playing football, the few times I bothered to watch him play, but he would never display that sense of innocent, almost child-like joy. The kind of joy he would have when we were together.

I don’t know if what I’m feeling for Baz can be called love. I may have felt that way, when I was with Agatha, but I don’t recall my feelings for Agatha ever being as strong as they are for Baz. Never in the few years that Agatha and I have been together did I feel a twinge in my heart when I thought of her. The same twinge I feel now as Baz crosses my mind. With Agatha, it was more than enough to be content with holding hands, kissing, and doing boyfriend/girlfriend things (like going to dinner with her parents, listening when she spoke about her day - something I struggled with, and giving her attention - another thing I struggled with).

It’s different with Baz.

With Baz, I sometimes feel like he deserves more from me. And I want to give him more. With Baz, we came on so hot and heavy that I sometimes wonder where else can we possibly go? I have heard that there is a very thin line between love and hate, and for Baz and I, that line must have been razor fucking thin. After all, we went from enemies to lovers in a record amount of time. I give myself whiplash even thinking about it. With Baz and I, that statement falls true. Our feelings must have been so strong and passionate that it makes sense for them to have flipped from one end of the spectrum to the other.

It’s enough to damn near break my heart.

I try to not think about the negative thoughts that have been creeping into my mind for the past month or so. I convince myself that these thoughts are normal, seeing as it is almost time for Christmas… which means it’s almost been a year since I lost everything. My mentor, my magic, my place in the only world I have ever truly belonged to.

But it’s also been a year since Baz and I kissed and I realized that I truly care for him. He’s become one of the most important people in my life. So, I have to be grateful for that! At least until he decides he’s had enough of me and how pathetic I am, and dumps me for someone much more suited to his standards.  
I shake my head to try to push away the thoughts. My therapist says that I should get into the habit of writing my negative thought patterns down, as a way to track what triggers them. She also suggested trying to get to the root of these negative thought patterns. She believes that by doing this, I can train my brain to notice when the thought spiral happens, understand why it is happening, acknowledge it, and figure out counter-thoughts. I heard what she was saying, but I had a difficult time believing that it could ever work in my case. You can’t heal a broken vessel with fancy words and “cognitive-behavioural therapy”.

I finish up my session with my therapist and schedule a few more. She explains that we should start looking into why I feel so useless by looking specifically at the deep-rooted issues that are affecting my ability to properly judge and process a situation. I hesitantly book an appointment for the following week, one that I may very well end up cancelling. My deep-rooted issues are not connected to how I feel now, and I do not feel like opening up old wounds from the past. It has no business in the present.

Speaking of the present, I am late for my date with Baz. I head out and it’s pouring rain. _Piss it! Fucking excellent!_ And I left my umbrella home as well. Already, this date is a bloody disaster.

* * *

_I_ _f I give my heart to you, I must be sure from the very start that you would love me more than her._

**BAZ**

I frown at my watch. The time is almost half past 6. It isn’t like Simon to be this late. I pull out my mobile and send him a quick message: _“Everything alright?”_. I do not need to wait very long because I hear a frantic knock on my door.

Simon Snow is standing in front of my door, sopping wet, with a look of utter humiliation. I see that his wings are starting to appear again, water dripping from the sharp edges. I give him a half-smile and lean against the doorway, eyebrow raised up.

“Why do you have such a knack for arriving at my doorstep looking like a proper mess?”

“Sod off Baz! I am not in the mood!” Simon doesn’t look amused. I can see his eyebrows are furrowed and his chin is jutting out, as if he is ready to start an argument with me. I don’t like it. My smile softens and I lightly touch his jacket sleeve, pulling him inside.

“I’m sorry, Love, I suppose I just tried to make you smile. Here, let me help you.” I start to help him unzip his jacket, when he turns away.

“You know, I would have been perfectly happy to stay at home tonight!” I pause and pull away from him. I decide that he needs a minute and step back. I take a deep breath to try and control my tone. It won’t do either of us any good if I lose my temper with him.

“I’ll be in the kitchen then, whenever you’ve calmed yourself down.” I walk to the kitchen and pull out the food that has been cooking in the oven. The roast is a little over done, but still very much edible. I also pull out a bottle of blood (I keep some in storage for emergencies, some butchers sell pig’s blood as an ingredient) and heat it up on the stove. It isn’t nearly as good as fresh blood, but it’ll have to do for now.

I am about to pour it into a bowl for myself, when I feel arms around my waist. Only Snow could spend Merlin-knows how long in a rainstorm and still be a portable heater. I feel his dripping wet hair on my back. My shirt will probably be ruined, but I don’t care. I will not tell Simon to leave. I turn and take him into my arms.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. I’m sorry Baz. I don’t know why I got so angry with you.” He sounds sad. I wonder if he’s had a difficult session today. I silently hope he feels comfortable to share with me. I rub circles on his back (the small space in between his wings) and nuzzle the top of his head. I give it a small kiss. Our hug breaks apart and I look into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that will always have the power to ground me; to tether me; to bring me home. My hand lightly touches some of his curls and move them away from his face.

“That’s fine. Why don’t you go freshen up. I’ll have drank up and have dinner on the table by the time you’re done.” Simon nods and heads to the restroom. There is an adjoining door that leads into my bedroom. I have a few shirts that have been spelled to accommodate his wings and there are a few of his own shirts that he had left behind from the few times he slept over.

While he is there, I take the opportunity to feed. I hate to do it in front of Simon. what we have is so breathtaking, I am not ready to ruin it with something so repulsive as me needing to feed on blood. Simon always tells me that he does not mind my bloodthirst, nor does he mind my fangs. However I hate them. They are a constant reminder that I am inhuman; a monster.

I quickly finish up and start to set the table. I conjure up some fire to light the candles. Simon hates it when I start to play with fire. He’s always afraid that I’ll make a mistake and self-immolate. As if I’m an amateur and not a brilliant fire-mage, like the rest of my family. IHe would especially hate it when I would smoke. It was a constant argument when we started being together. In fact, the last time we had a row about it, Bunce even got involved:

_“I always knew you had a tendency for being extra, Basil! But, smoking?! REALLY!? Do you have a death wish, you bloody, dramatic fool?! You put out that cigarette this instant before I set you alight myself!”_

I gave up smoking after that. However, I refuse to give up conjuring fire. I do still enjoy the bit of danger I feel when I handle it. It also allows me to feel the connection to my mother. I am careful, I have always been careful, and now that I actually have something to live for, I am even more prudent.

Simon comes out of the restroom, just as I am setting the last dish of vegetables on the table. He dried himself off and has changed into one of my football jerseys and a pair of my softer trackies. I do love those trackies on him. They fit him very well. I try not to let my eyes wander too much. Simon gasps as he notices the set up on the table. His eyes widen and it seems he’s forgotten how to breathe. I offer a smile and my hand out to him.

“Come now, Snow, I know I call you mouth-breather all the time, but please don’t forget to breathe.”

“Baz… this… i-it’s…”

“It’s a simple dinner.” I nod toward my outstretched hand. Simon gingerly takes it, and I lead him to his seat. I pull out his chair (I _am_ a proper gentleman after all) and allow him to sit down before heading to my own chair, in front of him. My table is rather small (I preferred it that way; small and intimate, as opposed to large and impersonal), only big enough to fit four people. This way, I can face Simon and take all of him in. I reach out to him and gently grab his hand.

“Bon appetit, love.”

* * *

_If I trust in you, oh please, don’t run and hide. If I love you to, oh please, don’t hurt my pride._

**SIMON**

Dinner was unbelievable.

I think I inhaled all the food that Baz had prepared. It was so delicious! All of it! It reminded me of one of my favourite meals from Watford. I wonder if Baz got the recipes from Cook Pritchard herself. She always did love Baz a whole lot. It would not surprise me in the least if she gave him all of her recipes. Mind you, while the meal tasted like food from Watford, there was a hint of something different to it. Almost as if Baz had put his own little spin to the recipes. Added a few spices here, removed an ingredient somewhere else. It was the same, but different.

My boyfriend is a bloody genius. A gorgeous, brilliant, perfect, genius.

I could not stop staring at him during our meal. The light from the candles was hitting his face in such a captivating way. The light bounced off his eyes and made them look almost like a very light hue of blue. The light also made his sharp features soften and added some dimension to the light beard he was starting to grow out. A little “experiment”, as he called it. He said he would shave it soon. I truly hope he doesn’t. I find he looks even more handsome and distinguished with his beard. Like a fashion model, well-traveled in the world. His hair has even grown out a bit, and falls ever so softly over his eyes when he bends his head down to hide his chewing. He’s absolutely stunning.

Our hands remained linked throughout the meal. He would occasionally rub his thumb over my knuckles and I would shiver. I adore him when he does it. A few times, I brought his hand up and planted a small kiss. That always causes him to bashfully look away, whispering “Simon”. I love that I can do that to him. I love that I can make him soft and shy. I like him like this. I treasure the moments where Baz shows a little vulnerability with me. We spent so long putting up walls between us, it’s more than welcome to feel this way.

We finish our meal. Baz reaches for his wand and casts **_“With every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and snap! The job’s a game!”_**. With a flick of his wrist and snap of his fingers, the dishes start to clean themselves, and the leftovers are being stored. I normally find it annoying that Baz casts so much magic, but in this case, I welcome it. I do not feel like cleaning up, and I doubt he does as well, after preparing everything from scratch.

I am still so dumbfounded that Baz did all of this for me. It wasn’t even a special occasion or anything. In fact, I imagine that this October must be especially difficult for Baz. It’s been a year since he’s been taken by numpties and missed his encounter with his mother. Yet, my striking boyfriend; instead thought of me and my own needs above his own. He knew that this year has been a burdensome one to say the least. So the fact that he did this means more than the world to me. My heart is so full for him, if I still had magic, I know it would be spilling from every inch of my skin.

Baz stands up and gracefully strides towards me. He stops to adjust the hair on my face. I lean into his touch and allow my lips to touch the inside of his palm. With his other hand, he conjures some more fire and directs it to various spots in the flat. Cheeky bastard had candles hidden all over the bloody place. I quietly look down and try to hide the smile creeping up on my face.

Baz gingerly lifts me onto my feet. His hands smoothly cradle my face and he plants a soft kiss on my lips. I feel my wings unfurl behind me, my tail wrapping itself around Baz’s leg. My new extremities already know what they want, before my brain second-guesses itself. Baz’s kiss feels a little scratchy to me, I am not yet used to the beard he has, but I am not at all mad at it. I allow my hand to search under his shirt, to his marble-cool back. Baz smiles and gently pulls away.

“I should cook for you more often, if that’s the reception.” He’s smiling, I’m swooning.

“Keep cooking like that, and I shall gladly show my gratitude.” I try to pull off the flirtatious smile, that Baz has down to a tee, but I’m not nearly as captivating as he. I don’t manage to hide the bright red flush over my cheeks.

“The night is not over yet,” he whispers to me.

“Oh?”

Baz cocks an eyebrow at me. He lifts his wand in the air and casts_** “Where words fail, music speaks”**_. Again, I should be irked, even angered that he used more magic around me. However, I am distracted by the sound of the violin in the air. I look around to see if Baz’s violin is playing on its own. Baz laughs and points to the speaker on one of his shelf.

_Arrogant git, he is, but he’s my arrogant git._

Baz stands back and holds his hand out to me “Dance with me?”

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Pitch!”

“Snow… dance with me…” His eyes sparkling; smile innocent. He’s innocent and soft all over. Somehow, I wonder if he needs this as much as I want this.

I slowly take his hand and he pulls me into an embrace, as a familiar song drifts through the air.

* * *

_‘_ _Cause I couldn’t stand the pain and I would be sad if our new love was in vain._

**BAZ**

I place my hand on his back and soon we’re dancing around the small space of my flat. It is almost like we are back at Watford, during the Leaver’s Ball. The only difference is that tonight, I want Simon to see himself just as I see him.

Perfect.

This portion of the evening was what I really wanted to show Simon. I had worked very hard to pick the right songs, practice them on my violin, and then convince Niall to use the studio his father owns to record the melodies. Simon and I have had some troubles when it came to conveying our thoughts and feelings to each other. The dinner was an extra bonus for him, and because I knew to get Simon Snow in a place of happiness, you needed to lure him with food.

I spin him around, carefully dodging the wings on his back. Simon places his hand on my shoulder and leans closer to me. The song changes to “If I fell” by The Beatles. I can feel my heart skip a beat. I nestle my face to his and sway with the smooth flow of the sounds in the air. As if on cue, the rain picks up outside, creating a hauntingly beautiful symphony. I feel a soft kiss on the side of my face and I close my eyes to relish it. It is more than I could ever imagine having. More than I ever thought I deserved. I would give everything I have, and will ever have to keep Simon in my arms. To keep this forever.

Simon’s hand move from my shoulder to the back of my neck. I feel a little shiver while his fingers dance on my spine. He starts to lightly scratch my back and I let out a small moan._ Crowley! I love when he does that…_ Tosser knows it to, because I feel him smiling. I giggle, feeling the walls I’ve kept up for so many years continue to crumble around me. When it came to Simon, it was never an option for me to keep them up.

Simon Snow you hold all the cards here. You hold all the cards, and all of my love in your hands.

The melody ends and we are left standing still in the middle of my flat. Simon is still gripping onto me with all of his might, I am still holding him as if he were a bubble about to pop. I can hear Simon sighing deeply, so I tightened my squeeze a little more and lightly snuggle the top of his head. I take in his sweet scent of cinnamon buns and sugared butter. Simon starts to plant kisses on the crook of my neck and my breath gasps. He traces the other side of my neck with one of his hands, the other heading down to my waist.

“Si-Simon… wh-... what… I-I...”

“Use your words, Pitch…”

With that, he holds my face in his hands and pulls me closer to him. I love him so much… I love all of him so much. All I need is what he is giving me now.

Now and forever.

_So I hope you see that I would love to love you… If I fell in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose there isn't much more for me to say. Once more, I welcome all constructive criticism and reviews. It encourages me to keep writing. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don’t Run and Hide (The ‘Where Words Fail’ Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821143) by [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias)


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